Radio Silence
by YourswithLove
Summary: Finn's accidental participation in a Puck planned crime lead him to being enrolled in and paired with Rachel Berry in a class project. Their interactions, along with her alter ego, local community radio DJ, Broadway Baby help Finn discover his potential and eventually, true love. A/U
1. Chapter 1

_**Prologue**_

_Finn sighed and shifted in the passenger seat. It had been a long two weeks since his Mom and Burt had presented as a united parental front and confiscated the keys to his truck, and Finn wondered whether it was still too soon to beg for the return of his driving privileges. He thought that being on court ordered probation for being an accessory to a crime was punishment enough, but Kurt explained that the loss of his truck was actually supposed to be a symbolic erosion of his right to freedom, driving the point home (pun intended). _

_Relying on Kurt for a ride hadn't been so bad since Finn didn't have that many places to go. Puck was locked up in juvie and quite frankly, Finn was still mega pissed with him. He'd fucked up and inadvertently dragged Finn along for a thrill-ride that wasn't all that thrilling. And when Quinn realised that his parental driving suspension and grounding was in effect she'd dumped his sorry ass because, with two weeks left of holidays, the idea of end of summer parties with no designated driver wasn't an attractive option. He genuinely felt sorry for Sam when he heard she hooked up with him the next day – there was plenty of paying for dates, joyless chauffeuring and rarely getting to second base to look forward to in his future._

_Been there, hadn't done that, ever. Quinn was locked up tighter than the ATM machine that Puck had tried to forcibly remove from the bank building, with his car and a winch. _

"_Where are we going?" Finn suddenly realised that Kurt had taken a detour and they were heading in the opposite direction of the house that they'd all started sharing since their parents got married a few months back. _

"_Lima Bean," Kurt answered brusquely._

_Finn grinned because Kurt was so transparent. Blaine worked at the coffee shop. Finn had been an unco-operative operative in Kurt's attempts to find the space and time to properly woo Blaine. Whenever Blaine was over, Finn would plant himself in the living room and enthusiastically insist he desperately needed to watch whichever musical was the pick of the day, or he'd develop an unrequited thirst that required multiple trips to the kitchen to quench. Finn had to get his kicks somehow and with such limited social interaction this was a fairly fun hobby. It's not like he was going to read ahead for English. _

"_Need a little pick me up, huh? And not from the coffee, I bet," joked Finn, "Don't be all day, man."_

_He was rewarded with a glare and felt satisfied from the achievement of annoying Kurt, except he immediately regretted it. Kurt wouldn't buy him a surprise chocolate frappe now as retribution, and Finn could never get away with ordering one himself – because, and he wasn't sure why, but no-one ever thought a 6 foot 2 adolescent male should drink cold chocolate milk – fuck knows why, it was delicious. And all these stupid little pieces of information always found their way back to the football team, who thought that anything that 'proved' you weren't tough enough made you a target. Finn really needed to remember to only piss off Kurt when there wouldn't be any repercussions for him. _

_But this didn't happen very often because Kurt was just as bad at stirring up Finn. Hiding his favourite vest because it was, 'a blight on humanity and offensive to all fashion personnel, who worked tirelessly to ensure the creation of beautiful garments'. Encouraging Finn's Mom to learn new healthy recipes, so their house no longer stocked banana bread and choc chip cookies but had plenty of zucchini slice (which wasn't actually too bad, but cookies it was not.) And being a helpful brother and throwing his bed linen in the wash with his own but not actually informing him until 2 minutes before he went to bed, which was usually when he'd stayed up to 3am playing Call of Duty online. _

_Finn's Mom and Kurt's Dad thought the tension between the brothers and their new family situation caused Finn to become a delinquent. They insisted on some kind of counselling, until Finn was honest with the social worker about his involvement in Puck's illegal enterprise, only because she said there was a client privilege and Finn's humiliating confession could never become public. The social worker (after some hysterical laughter) had ensured everyone that Finn was not a criminal mastermind, and the petty niggling between the stepbrothers could be viewed as a form of bonding. She'd also said that Finn was actually grateful for the happiness that Burt brought to his Mom's life. None of those revelations got Finn his truck back though._

_Drumming his fingers on the dashboard, Finn realised that Kurt had been gone for at least 10 minutes. Rather than being annoyed, he decided that due to his lengthy absence Finn was totally allowed to go through Kurt's stuff. They probably weren't, like official rules or laws anywhere, but Finn was sure he'd have support from the authorities. Kurt's car was crazily clean though. The glove box was all orderly, his license and registration tucked neatly away, with the car manual and nothing else. So boring. The interior was pristine and there wasn't anything under the seats. Not even a stray penny. Spotting Kurt's bag brought about a serious dilemma. It was__** in**__ the car, but technically not __**part **__of the car. _

_Glancing around the parking lot to scout for potential witnesses and seeing none was a convincing pro argument. _

_Firstly, Finn pulled out a French textbook. Kurt was fluent in conversational French, which definitely highlighted the difference between McKinley High and Dalton Academy. Or between a dedicated student and Finn's lack of high school academic effort. Sometimes to piss Finn off Kurt would only answer questions in French. It was annoyingly effective._

_A design sketchbook, with pretty good drawings was inside too. Finn knew nothing about fashion but the pictures were nice. All coloured and everything. Drawing was tricky – Finn couldn't even draw a bear. It'd turned out looking like a bush. Finally figuring out what Kurt was doing in the tyre shop office, when Finn was actually working was encouraging evidence that snooping could help them 'bond' as brothers. _

_Feeling a crackly plastic sealed box, Finn prayed it was food. He was so hungry because he'd been running late for work that morning and missed breakfast because Kurt was so pedantic about leaving exactly on time. But then, if it was food it would probably be something disgusting like sultanas or some other dried fruit, which according to Kurt, provided natural sugar and perked him up without preservatives or fat. Whatever; too chewy for Finn. And, as it turned out, not food._

_Condoms. Kurt was carrying around condoms. Finn shoved them back into Kurt's bag, feeling well and truly schooled by the anti prying Gods'. At least the box was never opened or Finn might have had a heart attack. Placing Kurt's bag in exactly the same position he found it, which was what smart spies did, Finn lamented his advent into mischief and wished Kurt would hurry up, because he needed the distraction to bleach his brain of all thoughts involving condoms and his brother. _

_It was times like this, Finn wished his Mom hadn't uninstalled all the games on his phone. And, then changed the Wi-Fi password._

_Although, it was forbidden, Finn's last avenue to fight boredom was to change the radio station. Mandatory rules were that the driver chose the music and was the only person allowed to touch the radio, but the driver wasn't supposed to abandon their passenger to flirt with his boyfriend either. And he decided that checking out Kurt's preselects would be a non-invasive or risky method of snooping, since he wasn't ready for any more shocking revelations._

_The first three were all pop music that Finn didn't know. Since Quinn deserted him for greener (and unfenced) pastures, Finn had said 'goodbye' to making out, which had always been accompanied by her crappy playlists of the most recent pop. It didn't set the most romantic ambience but then again, Quinn agreeing to make out was always a negotiation, and sometimes a manipulation. Yeah, he was probably best rid of that situation, although when school started back he wasn't looking forward to the gossip and speculation. _

_The next station was head banging metal. Couldn't have been Kurt's choice. Maybe he'd given one of his precious channel presets to Blaine. Finn thought that it was probably easier to give up one of those when proving his commitment to Blaine, rather than his virginity Unfortunately, this was a discussion Finn had walked into during one of his 'terribly thirsty' skits. Although that particular attempt was traumatic, Finn still thought this method of annoyance was highly successful based on percentages. It was ironic that while Finn was desperate to give his up virginity, Kurt was holding on so tightly. If only Quinn had of been as eager as Blaine. _

_Last station listed was playing a song from Grease. Finn knew it from last Wednesday's musical movie screening that he'd interrupted, disrupting the romantic atmosphere Kurt had purposely created. Funnily enough, it was pretty enjoyable. Both the movie and Finn's prank success. Sure, if Finn had a choice of John Travolta movies it would've been Broken Arrow or Pulp Fiction but the Grease songs were pretty catchy. He left it on that station, while cursing Kurt and sensing he was going to die of starvation._

_The next song played was from Funny Girl. Finn remembered that one because it was the first movie from a Barbra Streisand marathon that he couldn't sit all the way through. The pre-movie entertainment was a lecture entitled, 'Barbra Streisand and her contribution to modern life', which was as boring as it sounds. Finn liked the songs even though the movie had been depressing as hell, because he liked being exposed to new music, or old music as it was. It made him appreciate different elements, like voices and pitch and harmony because that knowledge actually helped his drumming. And since his home detention and lack of a socialisation, caused by his unofficial driving suspension happened, he'd been practising a lot more and rediscovered his love for playing._

_Kurt was so dead when he got back. He'd been gone for twenty minutes now and it was almost lunchtime. Finn's future likely included malnutrition._

'_Don't rain on my parade' was coming to an end and Finn wondered what song would be next. Were the two soundtrack songs a coincidence? Probably not. Finn bet himself that if the next song was from a soundtrack he would ask his Mom for his car keys back, giving her the example of being a neglected brother as evidence of need. But instead of a song the girl DJ started talking._

"_**Welcome back, you're listening to Lima Community Radio, and I'm your Broadway Baby. Every day from 11 to 12 you can catch me playing Broadway classics and songs from fabulous musicals. You just heard 'Don't rain on my parade' from the quintessential Barbra Streisand classic, 'Funny Girl', previous to that was, 'You're the one that I want' from 'Grease'."**_

_Finn thought she sounded pretty young to be on the radio, but she had said that it was community radio, which might be exactly what it seemed to be. He would have to ask Kurt. Depending on his mood when he got back, probably._

"_**Unfortunately, I am returning to school in a week so after today I will only be able to be heard on Sundays between 7 and 8am. Quite the demotion, I must say but I'm sure it will be much worse for me than you. Coming up next and replacing my weekday time slot is Michael's Metal Magic, although that could possibly an oxymoron. As always, I'm finishing my show with one of my favourites, as sung by me. Today, I am performing 'On my own' from Les Miserables. Eponine is one of my favourite characters, as I understand her motivations completely. I'll look forward to hearing some of your requests at my original scheduled time this Sunday morning."**_

_Quite surprisingly, this Broadway Baby had the sweetest voice of any girl he'd ever heard. And then, when she sang Finn literally got chills from her voice. She was amazing. Finn closed his eyes and let her voice wash over him. It had the paradoxical simultaneous effect of making his heartbeat faster while his blood vessels constricted, cutting off the oxygen to his brain. _

_Suddenly, the door opened, jarring Finn out of his stupor. Kurt looked appropriately sheepish, while handing over an iced chocolate frappe and chocolate chip and M&M cookie in silence._

"_Half an hour, Kurt," Finn mumbled through a mouthful of chewed up cookie bliss._

"_This is my apology," he replied, huffily._

_They drove in silence, until a Metallica song started. Kurt glared at Finn._

"_You changed the radio station!" exclaimed Kurt._

"_I was bored!" Finn argued, hoping that Kurt didn't realise the level of his sneakiness, while still being annoyed at him for being irritated at Finn when Kurt was the one who'd actually done the wrong thing. "Anyway, this is the type of music preset channel 3 plays constantly. What's that? A 'love' station, dedicated to Blaine, huh!"_

_Kurt began muttering in French then, but Finn understood all of the curse words and he'd also figured out some of the other obvious non-swearing ones so he got that the tone wasn't complimentary. Idiot, imbecile and cretin were pretty understandable across all languages. Kurt really needed more sleep, he was so highly strung._

_When Finn got home, he Googled Lima Community Radio Station and found out that it was run by local people, which was pretty cool. He went to their website and found out the kinds of shows they had programmed. Finn wasn't sure whether his interest was based on the community radio station concept or the Broadway Baby girl. Each presenter had their own page but on hers instead of a picture of her was an image of a young Barbra Streisand, which sucked. She was obviously some high school girl because the rules of the station said you had to be a least 16 to have a program, which meant he probably went to school with her since his high school held the majority of students from tiny Lima. He set himself a goal of finding out who the face behind the voice was – his Mom would be proud because she was extremely encouraging about setting goals, although she probably thought they should benefit his grades, not go after girls. He'd get to that later._

_Abruptly, remembering that he'd made a deal with himself about asking for his truck back, Finn went downstairs to see his Mom and plead his case. Suspiciously, she agreed and Finn thought her acquiescence probably had more to do with the fact that she didn't want to chaperone this weekends back to school shopping trip than her belief in his rehabilitation. He did have to agree to give up study hall to attend some Ms. Pillsbury health class for students 'in similar circumstances' to him, which was quite vague, but the idea of being reunited with his truck outweighed any future consequences. Buoyed by his successful oration skills, he grabbed the keys and headed out to football practice. Not having to ask Kurt to drive him improved his mood quite dramatically. As he hauled himself into his truck he checked his mirrors and fastened his seat belt, then because his car radio was so old he manually twisted the knobs and found 101.3fm, Lima Community Radio and enjoyed the weirdness that was gardening hour, programmed for 2 to 3pm on Fridays, while he drove to McKinley High. _

_Finn forgot all about Broadway Baby until Saturday night. He had been invited to several different parties but surprisingly he found himself saying, "I can't, sorry. I'm still partly grounded."_

"_You're such a liar," Kurt accused, shoving a handful of non-salted, non-buttered popcorn into his mouth._

"_I just didn't want to go out. No big deal," Finn grabbed some popcorn and chewed the dry, hard snack, wondering why the hell Kurt would bother with such a flavourless snack. "I've got work tomorrow anyway. Burt's making me service my engine before school starts on Monday."_

_Kurt shrugged and Finn mentally congratulated himself on his improving ability to bend the truth. In reality, Finn knew that he would possibly miss Broadway Baby's show if he stayed out too late. And as well as being tuned in for possible clues to her identity, he was quite enthused to hear her sing again. As he nodded off to sleep that night he realised he'd been dreading heading back to school for senior year, even with the likely success of the football team and Quinn's suggestive texts hinting at them resuming their ridiculous relationship he'd been depressed about the probability of his academic mediocrity and lack of future prospects. Literally, Broadway Baby, her radio show and her incredible voice managed to provide him with some enjoyable anticipation for his upcoming year._

_A/N I've never written high school Finn and Rachel before and thought I'd give it a go. Yep, I keep starting new things but I promise it wont be long for updates on all my other fics._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Finn grimaced as he felt a possessive arm wrap around his waist while he swapped over his books before the next period. The familiar synthetic smell of strawberries invaded his nostrils and immediately he knew the personal space invader was Quinn. He'd managed to avoid her all morning of their first day back due to the fact that they shared no classes, but he realized with the regularity of texts she'd be sending him that he was owed a confrontation.

"Hey, Finn," she smiled sweetly, in contrast to her real nature. "Did you miss me?"

Finn wanted to answer negatively but it wasn't entirely true. Quinn's whiplash moods were baffling and he hated being referred to as stupid, but at times she was fun and there was no denying her obvious beauty. With Puck locked away Quinn should have been a supportive girlfriend but Finn quickly figured out that she was not willing to negotiate and that her sterling reputation and popularity were more important than being understanding about his situation.

"How's Sam?" Finn took the offensive, which was unusual for him but spending the morning dodging invasive questions and returning sympathetic smiles was exhausting. Half his classmates acted like the loss of a girlfriend and a limb were comparable.

"Sam's fine," bristled Quinn. "He was well aware that we weren't romantically suited for a long term relationship. You and I needed that break so you could evaluate your priorities. I felt abandoned by your willingness to involve yourself in Puck's idiocy. You couldn't expect me to waste my summer because you succumbed to peer pressure."

Pissed at Quinn's assumption that he had willingly gone along with Puck's plan, even more so than her rewriting their relationship history, plus the fact that she'd interrupted him and made him late, Finn embodied his anger and slammed his locker shut startling her.

"I've got to go. I'll talk to you later," he seethed and stalked to his next class.

Frustrated with the crappiness this day had offered, Finn was well aware it was only going to get even worse. He had his first Ms. Pillsbury mandated class next and neither his Mom or his teacher had deigned to tell him that it was going to replace his study hall, which was where he usually caught up on sleep, studied his play book or managed his fantasy football team. Grieving the involuntary loss of study hall more profoundly than the loss of his girlfriend was telling; and even though Quinn was the ultimate high school commodity he didn't feel any anticipation at her proposition of a reunion.

Stepping into the classroom indicated on his schedule was confronting. Finn never had to worry about finding somewhere to sit before because Puck had always been there and even when he wasn't Finn was the freaking Quarterback and punches would be thrown over keeping him company or possessing the last seat at his lunch table. Scheming cheerleaders waging war with Quinn would attempt to undermine her by brushing too closely to him, pretending they had captured his attention and affection. In this class though he had doubts whether he would be valued as highly.

There weren't that many desks and the ones that were there were organized so that everyone was facing each other and that alarmed Finn. He preferred to space out during lessons and given this limited number of students and the desk arrangement it was highly probable his lack of responsiveness would be noticed. Not only that, but these guys waiting patiently for Ms. Pillsbury, were, for lack of a better vocabulary, fucking broken.

Tina. Or as she was commonly known as, T-t-tina. Because she had a stutter and this was freaking high school. It wasexpected that whatever problems you had, or fucked up situations you got yourself into would be exploited as weakness or used to define you. And then there was Wheelchair Kid, who was tortured because he was confined, unable to escape and an inconvenience to able-bodied people apparently. Finn didn't even know his name. And Marley. He was familiar with her because he was unfortunately present the day she collapsed in gym class. He'd carried her to the Nurse's office, feeling the jutting angles of her skeletal frame prodding him from beneath her oversized sweatshirt; her forced finality seeped through her skin. Horrified by the extent of Marley's issues, he'd taken responsibility to go and tell her Mom, an overweight cafeteria lady, about the incident. And then he'd vomited up his lunch and spent the next period shaking on the bathroom floor when he realized he'd actually laughed along when Azimo had jogged behind her a few weeks ago in warm up, making 'Your Momma' jokes.

Now, he was here. Included with a bunch of broken people. Broken people who possibly hated him. Probably hated him.

"Crime really doesn't pay, huh, bro," smirked Wheelchair Kid. Finn slid into a vacant desk and shot back a weak smile, feeling stupid for forgetting that speculation and gossip still reached the bottom rung of kids at McKinley. His story of hyperbolic misadventure and exaggerated heartbreak would be one of the top items discussed until someone fucked up worse than him.

Lost in thought, he distractedly retrieved a pen and notebook out of his bag as Ms. Pillsbury arrived carrying a stack of papers, silently handing them to Tina to pass around. He took his from Marley, unable to make reassuring eye contact, instead scanning her gaunt face, lowering his gaze to notice the way her long sleeves were pulled down hiding her bony hands.

"When you quit leering at Marley there, do you think I could have one of those?" came a sarcastic voice from his right.

Finn's head swiveled wildly, directly towards the derisive girl, embarrassed by her arrogant observation, for Marley and himself. Torn between feeling humiliated that his thoughtful contemplation had been misconstrued so severely and incredulity that his neighbor could have slipped in, right next to him undetected.

He scowled and thrust the paper outline at her. Rachel. He definitely knew her name. But he'd never considered her to fit the high standard criteria this class set as broken people. She was selfish, opinionated, bossy. According to Quinn, anyway. Coincidently he'd been informed of these defining characteristics when he was caught ogling Rachel, intently curious about the descending expanse of bare skin, starting at the hem of her short skirt and ending at the top of knee high socks. So he wasn't sure how accurate that depiction of her personality was.

Finn's attention was pulled away from Rachel as Ms. Pillsbury had finished sanitizing her chair and sat demurely, crossing her legs.

"Each one of you is here for a reason," she began, compelling Finn to review the hasty decision he made. He was only here because he wanted his truck back. It symbolized his freedom; and was the solitary thing that had remained static in his life.

"And this class is to review why that may be. It's quite simple," Ms. Pillsbury said, with her gentle lilt, "You will keep a journal. Inside you will write entries based around the analysis of several questions I pose each week. It won't be easy because having to confront your feelings and evaluate your opinions can be challenging."

Finn's posture became rigid. He refused to be a part of this stupidity, being recruited for some kind of self -knowledge mission with no prior evidence that he had a problem. His misdemeanor had happened outside school hours and demonstrated his trusting nature, not some latent desire to establish a crime syndicate.

"I won't even read what you write."

Because I won't be writing anything, Finn thought bitterly.

"But at the end of each period we will bring up any salient points as a whole class, if you wish, and, of course, I will be available for appointments to discuss these issues further. Today we will just get into the swing of things by recalling one word that described your summer and why you chose it to describe your break."

Breathing, pen scratching on paper and the chemical smell of alcohol disinfectant permeated the room for the next half hour. As Marley, Wheelchair Kid and Tina scribbled furiously, Finn hummed the tune to 'Seasons of Love', the song Broadway Baby had chosen to finish her show with yesterday. It felt entirely relevant, because while she'd questioned how to measure a year in a life, he considered how he would measure the time to the end of this period. Possibly in the shallow breaths Marley took, struggling with the impossible exertion writing and exhaling had on her constitution. He measured the minutes in Tina's occasional lapses in writing to re-read her efforts, shaping the words with her mouth, interestingly enough without stuttering once. Counting how many times Wheelchair kid stretched his back, raising his arms above his head, correcting his own position in his forever seat.

With only a few minutes left he turned to his right to discover Rachel focused on his blank page. He glowered angrily at her but she didn't flinch or appear contrite for her blatant nosiness.

She held up her own page, where she had scripted in neat block lettering, 'YOU HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING?'

Studying her questioning expression he saw genuine interest there and didn't know what action would be appropriate. He was quite sure that in this exact situation Quinn would berate him for being lazy, or stupid for not being able to finish the task, or she would say his lack of ambition translated in his academic efforts.

He hazarded a guess and scrawled back, 'Neither have you!'

She smiled wryly, wrote 'LONELINESS' and angled her notebook for him to see. He was unsure what she meant but his brain clicked over and he recognized she'd shared her word. The one they'd been required to identify and elaborate on. He thought for a minute but couldn't pinpoint one emotion. But he felt there had been a running theme in his life lately that he was unsure he wanted to voice, especially to a veritable stranger. He glanced at her again and she pointed to his page.

'Betrayal' he penned, and shifted his book to within her viewing range. Her mouth dropped open and she looked surprised but he wasn't sure if it was because of the information he shared or that he had obeyed her wish for him to communicate. Rachel had attempted to plaster over the shock with an expression of sympathy but he didn't want her assuming anything about him or worse, endeavor to speak to him about what he wrote. He kept his head down until the bell, and then tore out of the classroom without looking back.

Praising those who created his schedule he spent the last period of the day hammering the living shit out of his body in the gym. He concentrated on the heaviest weights possible, rhythmically lifting and lowering, inhaling and exhaling in an effort to expunge his brain of thoughts about his lapse in keeping his futile feelings locked up tight.

Immediately after school he commanded his feet to walk him over to Ms. Pillsbury's office. Down all the hallways he tightly gripped the keys to his truck in his pocket until the left a deep indent in his palm. He didn't need that class, he practiced reciting in his mind. He wasn't broken.

He slumped in the plastic chairs outside the office door marked 'Guidance Counselor' waiting for Ms. Pillsbury to show. Instead Rachel appeared, marching down the same hallway. She claimed the seat opposite Finn and placed her hands in her lap. Her smooth skin was on display again but even without Quinn there to admonish him, Finn willed himself to be oblivious.

"So, you have added petty criminal and hygiene avoider to your résume then," she commented with a raised eyebrow. He ignored her and turned his head to the right.

"I know this, because, besides the fact that I can smell you from here, there is no possible way you could shower and traverse the school grounds before I arrived."

Snubbing her proved no easy task as she demonstrated she was quite content to have a one sided conversation.

"You do realize that Ms. Pillsbury prides cleanliness above all else, right. So whatever you are hoping for as an outcome to your meeting with her has already put you at on the back foot."

He swore softly as he absorbed Rachel's words. His urgency to speak with Ms. Pillsbury would hold no importance since he hadn't taken the time to shower.

As Ms. Pillsbury rounded the corner her bright countenance blanched.

"Rachel, I was expecting you," she sighed, with evident long sufferance, "But you, Finn, not so much. As I'm sure you are both here for the same reason why don't we discuss this together?"

She invited them into her office with a sweeping arm gesture and Finn trudged in behind Rachel, giving in to temptation to admire her butt.

Rachel frowned but sat across from their teacher, "Ms. Pillsbury, I'm quite sure having a joint session with you is highly unprofessional given our individual grievances."

"It's fine," Finn interrupted, taking the seat next to Rachel. He desired a favorable result and was sure her complaints would eliminate the feasibility of excusing himself from her ridiculous class and landing himself back into study hall where he belonged. His lack of student solidarity earned a vicious glare promising him pain when all was said and done.

"Why are you so against participating in this class?" Ms. Pillsbury glanced at Rachel, selected a pen and began to write.

"Why do you think I should be taking this class?" Rachel was defensive. "It seems to me the administration in this school is discouraging my abilities. You specifically said that if I joined in this class I would be allowed to continue vocal coaching with Mr. Schuester but his temporary leave of absence makes that unfeasible. That class is also for developing self- knowledge. You must admit that I already understand my strengths and weaknesses and its irrelevant to me."

'Mr. Schuester is on paternity leave. You know you can come visit him anytime, Rachel. He says he misses you every day," Ms. Pillsbury replied with withering affection.

This new information threw Finn for a loop. He knew Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schue were married and that they'd gotten a new Spanish teacher but Finn hadn't paid and mind to where Mr. Schue had disappeared to since the substitute was so hot.

"Why don't you want to participate, Finn?"

Finn panicked. What could he say that wouldn't make him sound pathetic?

"I hate writing and this class is all writing. I made one mistake and it feels like I'm going to be punished forever. I get what happened was wrong. But I know me and I'm not broken like those other kids. I don't need it."

"How do you feel about all of the changes that have taken place recently?" Ms. Pillsbury questioned, and Finn glanced over at Rachel, who was tuned in and quite fascinated to hear his life being dissected. "You've had a lot to deal with in the last few months."

"I'm fine," Finn gritted his teeth and continued, overstating, "Everything is perfect."

Ms. Pillsbury's empathetic look flashed his way and he knew he'd failed to convince her to restore his study period or any semblance of normal back to his life.

"I've got a compromise for both of you," Ms. Pillsbury's positive tone meant it was the worst idea ever, definitely. Finn loathed the way adults asked you for your opinion and then proved you powerless while they implemented their original plan. The Children's Court judge had done exactly the same thing. As did the Social Worker, and his Mom.

"I still want both of you to complete the class. But since you hate writing, Finn and Rachel really needs to learn to listen, you can submit a taped verbal conversation between the two of you answering the weekly questions."

"But," began Rachel, before being silenced by a continuing thought.

"I won't listen to the whole thing but I will need a copy of the tapes to run them through a program to ensure you're both participating in the exchanges. It makes the task less formal and Rachel, since you're so concerned about your voice it will prove to be an excellent experience for you to practice improvisation and responding to a partner. We can discuss the gritty details in class tomorrow."

Finn was at a loss for words.

"Fine," Rachel stated and flounced from the room, her skirt whipping up, affording Finn a glimpse of polka dot panties.

"Fine," Finn shrugged, despite his heart beating rapidly from the up-skirt he inadvertently received and a feeling that everything was about to turn to shit.

A/N I wrote this so quickly but I needed to get it down. Thanks for all the reviews and I hope it makes sense!


	3. Chapter 3

_Finn trudged across the student parking lot to his truck, examining it intently from afar, trying to determine whether retaining possession of the keys and ergo, his freedom, was worth the trouble. The truck's chassis, once a glossy shade of light blue, reflected its age with faded chipped paint with rust spots, sticking doors and a passenger side lock that was jammed and couldn't be secured. But he realised its intrinsic value lie in his ownership. _

_Opening the driver side door, he slid in silently next to the blonde haired girl, who knew all about his truck's foibles, expressing her consternation with his vehicle frequently, compared to Finn, who thought of the deficiencies as charming idiosyncrasies. _

"_Where have you been?" she asked irritably, while attempting to counteract her attitude and reignite their familiarity by brushing her lips against the crease of his mouth. Finn recoiled but started the engine anyway, sighing resignedly. Denying Quinn's touch was a risky maneuver, as her affection had always proven conditional. Its return would now need to be coaxed out with promises and apologies, albeit Finn wasn't even sure he wanted it back._

_The parking lot was almost empty, mass evacuations being hastier than usual given that the lingering sun was still present from summer that had just passed, as well as their teachers' reluctance to prescribe homework overload until at least the second week back. Quinn's alternative ride had been dispatched and responsibility for her transferred to him. Believing it incredibly unfair that she could easily disregard Sam's feelings while also being flattered that she wanted him back, was confusing. He thought he appeared appallingly passive; that she already assumed he'd fallen in line with her arrangement._

"_So," she began, wresting his right hand from its position on the steering wheel and holding it in her own against the bench seat, "My party on Saturday night? It will be best if you arrive at about 8, to help set up and also just to reaffirm our status. Are you sure you can't change your lunch period to match mine?"_

"_No," replied Finn. His negative answer was given as a general response to changing his lunch period, promoting their relationship and his attendance at her party but he didn't clarify his position. Glancing down at her small hands fastening either side of his, the clasp felt wrong and uncomfortable but she didn't seem to notice any difference. She continued describing a string of tasks he would be required to do for a party he wouldn't be attending._

_A flash of pink caught his eye and he raised his head to watch Rachel negotiate her way across the same parking lot to her car. In the two instances he'd been privy to observe her walking he'd noticed she seemed to be in a hurry, which made him wonder whether she had somewhere to be. Despite it being absolutely none of his business he theorized that he would be completely pissed off if she'd played him during their brief connection when they engaged in word association. Lonely people should have nowhere to go, although by her erratic reversing and swift acceleration onto the street it looked as if that was not true._

_Choosing 'loneliness' as her descriptor led Finn to believe that there was a dichotomy between the summary Quinn had given of Rachel's character and the person that had emerged for a small period when she'd firstly read him like a book, before actually reading his notebook. But apart from the small glimpse when Rachel had let her guard down she'd been exactly who Quinn said she was. He'd be naïve to believe there was more to Rachel though – fuck knows, he was entirely wrong about Quinn. And Puck. And, his Mom. _

_He dropped Quinn to her door, letting her lips linger on his, surprised about how generous she was being, issuing more kisses today than she'd done in quite some time. Normal physical reactions occurred – he was a guy after all, but his stomach heaved and Finn knew nausea wasn't an appropriate response but instead indicated exactly where he was at with this girl. It would be easier to end it now – before it restarted but she supposed everything was just as it was – and rather than confronting it head on he thought about how fucked up it was that Quinn thought this, Finn's emotional distance, his physical unavailability, the fact that he'd barely said ten words to her today was a positive representation of their bond or at least something to endure._

_Finn wished for the ritualistic work of the tire shop to avoid introspection but unfortunately Burt had given both Kurt and Finn temporary leave to help them establish routines for school. Instead Finn helped Kurt bake cookies and listen to him rant about his French teacher, Ms. Ratatouille. It took Finn a while to realize that Kurt had invented her moniker, as he reported she looked like a fat mouse. It was comforting ridding his brain of Quinn and Rachel and Ms. Pillsbury's expectations for the afternoon endeavoring to imagine what exactly this mouse-woman looked like. _

_Staring out of the window in Maths class the next day, instead of the complicated calculations on the board, Finn was shocked to see Ms. Pillsbury enter the room, and motion for him to make his escape thanks to her willingness to aid and abet and possibly harbor him. _

"_Ms. Pillsbury, trigonometry is my most difficult subject. You can't expect me to be an effective student if you interrupt my studies," complained Rachel, standing in the hallway, straightening up as Finn approached. He'd never noticed before because she was either sitting when he was looking at her or at a distance away, but she was short. Especially, in comparison with his frame. _

"_We need to have our ground rules established before you begin my class," Ms. Pillsbury explained, "Once you both understand, I'm sure you can be quite self managing. And I don't want to you to tell Marley, Tina or Artie about the specific allowances I'm making for you. Your differences mean you are less at risk than they are and I am relying on your discretion."_

_Artie, smiled Finn, in relief. That was the Wheelchair kids' name. _

_Ms. Pillsbury ushered them into a vacant classroom and gave them the schedule of weekly topics, with questions listed underneath. She handed over an extremely old tape recorder and a packet of unopened cassette tapes. _

"_So, now you need somewhere quiet to talk. I don't think I need to give you anymore instructions or I will be ruining the authenticity of the experience." Ms. Pillsbury proved she was capable of the psychobabble she usually dulled down around students' like Finn before departing. He wondered if just standing in proximity of Rachel raised his teacher's belief in his ability. _

"_We can't stay here," Finn panicked, concerned more about his reputation than the effect Rachel would have on his reputation. She winced; presuming his need for isolation was based around the student bodies' general dislike of her. _

"_Come with me," she said, grabbing his hand roughly and dragging him down the empty hall. Given Finn's new contemplative state he couldn't help but compare the way his maybe girlfriend's hand had felt with Rachel's. With Rachel her touch was sure but purposeful, to direct him and encourage him to pick up the pace. Quinn's hand was supposed to be demonstrative, loving but instead had felt forced. _

_He liked holding Rachel's hand. He forgot that it was for a specific reason and concentrated on how natural it felt, the automatic way they'd found a comfortable clasp, resolving issues of size difference and style preference without speaking. Pushing through double doors, he realized he hadn't even focused on where they'd actually been going. Rachel gazed at their hands and blushed, but didn't sever their link, leading him up to the auditorium stairs on the left side of the stage. She separated herself and skipped to the opposite side._

"_I love the stage," she called to him. "Fantastic acoustics." _

_Finn sensed the genuine excitement she exuded. "Yeah," he replied, unable to think of any positive or relevant response, "I don't think anyone will find us here."_

_Rachel's face fell, as he realized he continued to project his anxieties about himself onto her._

"_I didn't mean it like that, it's just that…" he started to explain._

"_You don't have to rationalize your disappointment, Finn," Rachel demurred, "I understand I'm not who you want to spend your time with."_

"_Actually," he said, honestly, moving towards her side of the stage, "I'm not sure who I want to spend my time with anymore."_

_It was true to an extent. He couldn't spend time with Puck, unless he delved deeper into crime and committed a jailbreak – not that he wanted to be around Puck. Or he wouldn't without an extensive apology. The more he pulled away from Quinn, the more desperate she tried to hold on to him, he thought, remembering the five text messages she'd sent last night that he hadn't replied to. And the football team, with the exception of Sam, who had avoided Finn since hooking up with Quinn, were not guys he wanted around. Kurt was the only person he willingly spent time with lately._

_Rachel seemed pleased with his clumsy statement. She pulled a picnic blanket from her bag, spread it on the stage and sat down, crossing her legs and retrieving a thick notebook and her iPhone form her bag._

"_We should get started," Rachel efficiently set up her materials and patted the space in front of her, "You need to sit. I know Ms. Pillsbury gave you that ancient tape recorder but there is software on my phone that does exactly the same job. It's important to have a playback copy for my analysis."_

_Sitting down provided a conundrum for Finn. He was quite sure he was supposed to concentrate on their discussion but Rachel had dressed in an even shorter skirt today. Her skin was smooth and distracting and it didn't help that she smelled like soap. The plain, clean smell was intoxicating when compared with the confusion of deodorant, shampoos and perfume Quinn used. His heart pounded, torn between not wanting to be outed as a pervert but also admitting to himself that a second flash of her panties wouldn't be unwelcome._

"_What are you going to analyze?" Finn asked, desperate to draw his attention from her legs._

"_Tone, pitch, word use. Those kinds of things," said Rachel. She had begun the recording and was flipping through her notebook. "I want to become a performer and my voice is my instrument."_

"_I play the drums," he joked, "They're my instrument."_

"_Really," Rachel was interested, "Are you good?"_

_Finn thought about that for a minute. He was quite good in middle school before he'd lost interest and started football but he could tell that the regular practice during his unofficial house arrest had enabled him to improve quickly._

"_I'm okay," Finn shrugged, "I read music and stuff."_

"_You don't seem very enthusiastic," Rachel frowned, "Music is my life. My passion. I'm sure you are better than you think you are."_

"_How can you know that?" wondered Finn. _

"_You're better than all of them, Finn," Rachel stated simply, taking her split personality to the next level. She seemed so sure, and yet Finn hadn't done anything to set himself apart from Quinn, or Puck or Azimo. "I saw you carry Marley to the nurse. You didn't hesitate. I saw the compassion in your eyes when you were faced with Marley, and Tina and Artie. You are kind. I've watched you."_

_Finn heard her sincerity and his throat closed over. Soothed by both her words and her voice he felt renewed. _

"_Thank you," he said._

"_Your welcome," Rachel smiled, "Let's get on with this though."_

_Finn pulled out the paper he'd hastily stuffed in his backpack and skimmed the topics. The first one was family. He glanced at Rachel's face and she was mouthing words read from her notebook._

"_What are you doing?" he queried, guessing, "Are your answers in that notebook?"_

"_Yes." Rachel was honest. _

"_How did you even know what the questions were?" Finn didn't want Rachel to prepare what she was going to say. It would cheapen the experience somehow._

"_I emailed Ms. Pillsbury," Rachel admitted with a guilty look. Finn looked skeptical._

"_I baby sit for her. Mr. Schue negotiated giving me vocal lesson for baby-sitting during his weekly basketball game since they have only have one wage right now. I also have their phone numbers."_

"_But Ms. Pillsbury said you were supposed to be practicing improvisation, didn't she? Doesn't that mean you're supposed to think off the top of your head?"_

"_Congratulations on knowing what improvisation means, Finn," Rachel barked, "But I don't want to be recording nothing. That's radio silence, its dead air! It's the worst thing possible on the radio or the stage."_

_Something familiar turned over in Finn's head but it escaped his hold; something about radio silence and dead air. He wasn't sure it was important. Maybe it'd return when he wasn't trying to emphasize why their dialogue should be spontaneous._

"_You don't trust me," Finn accused. "But I trust you."_

"_You have nothing to lose," Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. But that wasn't true. He felt like he had everything to lose._

"_Just give me the book, Rachel and lets do this properly together. I won't tell anyone what you have to say. I want to know about you," said Finn, grabbing hold of Rachel's notebook and tugging it towards him._

_Except, he misjudged Rachel's strength and her tenacity. She didn't let go and he ended up dragging both the book and Rachel into his lap. When he realized she was falling he dropped his grip on the book and reached out to grab her, his hands halting her descent by catching around her upper arms. _

_Their faces were mere inches apart, her legs pressed against his, as their eyes remained locked. Finn refused to turn away from her dark chocolate eyes and searched her gaze for reasons he couldn't let Rachel half ass their assignment. He'd literally never cared before, letting Puck copy chunks of an English essay so he wouldn't fail, having Mike correct his answers to ensure he held on to his Quarterback position but this class, where they'd either get a pass or fail, he didn't want to cheat. _

_It was Rachel who bridged the gap between them and pressed her lips against his tentatively. She pulled back slowly, and in a silent agreement they both moved forward to deepen the kiss. Finn felt Rachel shaking in his arms, so he drew his hands to her nape, stroking the silky strands of her hair encouragingly. But before he could angle her head to trace his tongue along the seam of her mouth, Rachel jumped up. _

"_I have to go," Rachel lied, her story reeking of obvious contradiction, "I forgot I've got to meet Marley for lunch."_

_She shoved her belongings into her bag quickly and ran out of the auditorium through the back of the stage. Finn wouldn't even know where she'd go to hide, even if he knew how to navigate his way through the back scenery. He hoped she didn't want to excuse herself from their sessions to return to the dull monotony of essay writing her feelings now, but at least she'd forgotten her blanket so he had a reason to see her again and convince her not to run away from him again._

* * *

_A/N Thanks for reviewing. _


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you want my help or not?" Kurt's ultimatum was issued with a triumphant look, knowing that Finn was incapable of refusing.

"Yes," Finn sighed, and picked up the notebook Kurt had thrust on him not ten minutes ago.

Earlier Kurt had curiously stared as Finn surreptitiously carried a large bundle straight to their laundry room. Finn assumed his recent descent into criminality combined with this suspicious behaviour had piqued Kurt's interest and he'd demanded to know exactly what Finn was up to.

"What are you doing?" Kurt burst dramatically into the room, ready to expose Finn's delinquent actions.

"Washing this," Finn replied and gestured to the plaid, woollen picnic blanket that Rachel had abandoned when she deserted him on stage.

"Finn," Kurt scolded, "This is a special care fabric. You cant just thrown it in. Wool will shrink if it's heated! And it needs to be treated gently. There are many types of wool washes out there but I prefer to make my own with soap flakes and essential oils. It adds a beautiful scent to the garment and people really notice."

Finn's attention to Kurt's fabric care discourse tapered off at the beginning, but unfortunately Kurt and Finn had spent quite a lot of time together recently and he'd learnt that Finn's habitual eye glazing over still allowed him to nod at important details, while not absorbing anything significant.

"Finn, these are life skills!" Kurt screeched, "I won't always be here to help."

And that was when Kurt retrieved a notebook and labelled it with Finn's name. Apparently it was to document these 'life skills'. Finn thought it was probably going to remain blank since he wasn't sure when he'd ever get around to washing something again, especially something that required special care. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure why he was doing it now.

It had been a day since Rachel's abrupt departure and he hadn't caught up with her since. Not from a lack of trying however – Rachel seemed adept at hiding in plain sight. He'd held on to the blanket because he knew if he took possession of it then Rachel would come looking for him and it would force a confrontation.

And he also liked the blanket. Finn didn't completely understand the logic but the thick, plaid material comforted him. It reminded him of a simpler time before he'd been immersed in a life of duck down quilts and bedrooms where you didn't hit your head when you stood up without stooping. Simultaneously, the blanket also grounded him in the present because the expensive wool and warmth made him grateful for his new found family and the opportunities they'd provided.

Vaguely, Finn thought as he settled himself on the laundry bench watching the washing machine spin and turn, his affection and maintenance of the object was easier to understand than his confusing feelings about Rachel. Like, despite how terribly itchy it was Finn had kept it wrapped around him that night.

"You know how electricity works, right?" Kurt's biting sarcasm interrupted Finn reflective analysis, "Its out of your hands now. There are no tiny villagers you can intimidate into efficient work practices with your towering presence."

Finn heaved another sigh, and witheringly, left the gentle cycle to clean his scent from the blanket. Obviously Kurt either wanted Finn's assistance or company – and he followed him into the kitchen to find out which.

Later that night, Finn collected the blanket from outside where Kurt had advised him to lay the item flat outside to take advantage of the late summery drying conditions. He folded it up and laid it at the foot of his bed. But during the night the weather changed and rain began bucketing down; Finn sleepily spread Rachel's blanket across his bed to absorb his smell and sweat and decided that he would just hold on to it.

Staking out Rachel's locker the next morning was shrewd, even if it meant that Finn had to skip some of his own classes to ensure constant surveillance. Unfortunately, given his height, he was conspicuous and she'd skittered in the other direction when she saw him lurking. He disappeared in the bathroom and waited for her to return to exchange her textbooks, since he imagined she thought him flaky and not capable in his dedication to the task.

Peeking through the door, he spotted her making the trade in the emptying hallway.

"Rachel," he murmured softly as he approached her, an affectionate tone unintentionally creeping into his voice, "Why do you keep running away from me?"

"Hello, Finn," she replied in a brisk business like manner. "Did you need something from me?"

"We need to finish our recording session. We don't have any more class time this week and Ms. Pillsbury is expecting the first tape. We should we meet to finish it," Finn frowned.

Rachel turned her back on Finn deliberately and her words were muffled, swallowed by her locker, "I don't really think we need to meet. I've decided I'd rather write the essays and not bother with the vocal aspect of the task. I just don't think its fair on the other students in the class, that we be granted special privileges because I have a personal relationship with Emma and Will, and because you aren't capable of lengthy written responses."

Her words stung but he had the insight to realise that they were barbed for a reason. She wasn't deliberately cruel like Quinn but she was protecting herself from her reaction to him.

"Rachel," Finn started and grabbed her arm, his fist circling her wrist, sensing he needed to establish physical contact to ensure she felt their connection.

"Finn," Rachel spun around, her begging eyes contradicting her enraged verbalisation, asking through gritted teeth, "Let go, please."

"What are you doing?" A shrill voice pierced the tense air around them, the dark stare disputing the frivolous tone. Quinn's eyes were fixed on the purposeful and intimate bond of Finn's hand enclosing Rachel's wrist, his thumb brushing against the pulse point of her inner wrist. He automatically knew that his caress of Rachel would be catalogued in Quinn's head as ammunition.

"What do you mean?" Finn stalled for an answer. Acknowledging his partnership with Rachel would only expose her to misery and him to ridicule. Even though his confiscation of study hall and replacement class were mandated, the conditional aspects and participants in that class were strictly laughable.

"I'm tutoring him." Rachel stepped in. "In English."

She shook Finn's grip from her hand and glared at him, accusing him of ostensible cowardice.

"Why didn't you ask me, Finn?" Quinn pouted and stroked her hand up and down his arm, as if attempting to erase her competition, "I'm just as clever as Rachel."

Rachel had turned her back on Finn again to compete the task she'd started before being interrupted.

"He told me that he'd never get any work done, studying with you," Rachel invented, scoffing at their paradoxical situations.

"Your so sweet," Quinn staked her claim by tiptoeing and placing an open mouthed kiss on Finn's cheek before sauntering off, her confidence renewed by Rachel's generous claim about his false desire for her. Unbelievably he had only said about three words to Quinn, since her demand to recommence their relationship. He'd ignored every text message that required answering with definites, only responding with information declining requests to hang out lying about being grounded or busy with work. He'd driven her home the previous afternoon as his truck's lack of locks had invited her in and Finn had allowed her mouth to lazily meet his; not responding, blanking out.

Finn was surprised that Quinn trusted such obvious untruths. Her ability to see exactly what she wanted and interpret a situation for her own gain was only topped in impressive achievements by Rachel's quick thinking use of their private clinch as an excuse why Finn couldn't work academically with Quinn. He thought that Rachel might have been so convincing because she actually thought it was true.

"See," Rachel laughed sardonically, "You scolded me when I'd prepared notes to speak from about our families for our session. But being prepared has taught me how to improvise. If I hadn't just filled your silence there, you'd have lost yourself a girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Well, then. She definitely needs to practice listening for your silences then, doesn't she?" Rachel incredulity about his denial was obvious.

"I don't know what you mean," Finn replied, honestly.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Rachel slammed her locker door shut. "We need to get to class."

"Just promise me you won't tell Ms. Pillsbury you've decided to join the rest of the class until Monday," Finn had never actually thought he could affect change. But with Rachel he was willing to actually try.

"Fine. But it won't make any difference," she called out as she retreated down the hall.

Sitting at his desk the next afternoon, after exiting school hastily to avoid Quinn's uninvited visitation to his means of transportation and subsequent kisses, he read the discussions questions he'd only briefly glanced at before he noted that they all related to family. Unsure about the depth Rachel was willing to explore, he jotted down basic information, figuring that she may be willing to reconsider if he demonstrated commitment to the task.

He attempted to recall their conversation, since only the actions from that day had been at the forefront of his mind. Finn would never admit to it but he'd used imagining the way their legs had pressed together, the silkiness of her hair in his palm and the welcome intrusion of her tongue sliding against his in the shower. His empty browser history held no evidence against him because Rachel had been all he'd needed. The scratch of her blanket that had become a permanent fixture on his bed could propel Finn back to the auditorium and he hardened instantaneously. His visceral reaction was embarrassing.

Remembering that he'd recorded their words he retrieved the tape recorder and stretched out on his bed, his feet resting against the headboard, his cheek grazed the wool. The playback was so quiet that he found himself squinting with concentration. Plugging in earphones helped slightly, but Finn realised he would have to ask his Mom for the Wi-Fi password changes to download the program Rachel used to record them.

Listening to the beginning of their conversation confused Finn. Away from the surrounding echo, without focusing on the actual words being said but the sound of her voice, Rachel seemed very familiar. But he had never heard her speak before Ms. Pillsbury's class. Noticed her legs, but not her voice.

He tried to distinguish what it was about her voice, when his tired brain sparked.

"But I don't want to be recording nothing. That's radio silence, its dead air! It's the worst thing possible on the radio or the stage."

He rewound the tape and replayed it over and over. Slowly, the pieces fell into place. Her ambitions, her desire to improve her improvisation, the examination of her own voice and responses. Rachel was his 'Broadway Baby'. Now he just had to figure out how, if it was even possible, to use that information to get her to continue with their recording.

Finn balled up the instructions that Quinn had left for him in his locker on Friday, describing his role at her party on Saturday night and tossed them into the trash. He could sense she was beginning to become frustrated with his lack of communication, although he doubted she knew his ignorance was deliberate. She always labelled him as stupid, but she hadn't even questioned him on his withdrawal, since she'd never assume it was actually her fault.

Bitter memories resurfaced as Finn recalled the last party Quinn hosted had been on the night of the attempted teller machine theft that saw them get arrested. She'd never realised, or at least admitted to Finn that she knew that she was the inspiration for Puck's scheme. It was partly her fault Finn had even become embroiled in Puck's folly. Both Puck and Quinn had been lying to Finn. They'd plied him with drinks to keep him occupied and oblivious, both having different reasons but wanting to achieve the same goal. They'd never even realised he was already begun drinking heavily to deal with the information his Mom had shared with him earlier that day; they just thought it was a convenient coincidence that his desire to get smashed that night fit neatly into their own plan. Quinn's dazzling obliviousness couldn't have been authentic, but her angelic features remained as smooth and undisturbed, when she'd questioned Finn on Puck's motivations for committing such a ridiculous stunt a few days after the actual event. She hadn't realised he'd seen the argument between them; or heard her demand for money.

Quinn's deception, motivated by personal gain and lies was so much darker than Rachel's need to protect an identity that wouldn't have been understood by her friends. If she even had friends. Such lofty ambitions would be shot down and Finn could see Rachel being told they were impossible. But he'd heard her sing and knew she was so much better than that. Not knowing which approach would work best, Finn decided to keep Rachel's secret and try to institute a friendship before he revealed his admiration for her alternate personality.

After work at the tire shop on Saturday morning, when Finn should have headed over to Quinn's house to string party lights and declutter her house of expensive items that could be damaged, he changed routes and pulled his truck up in Rachel's driveway. His charm and use of the tutoring lie had easily won over the administration lady and she'd handed over Rachel's address without any difficulties.

He nervously knocked on Rachel's door, his arms weighed down by the blanket (which he had washed again, in accordance to the instructions he'd noted down in his 'life skills' book), the recording equipment he needed to complete the first week of Ms Pillsbury's class and a DVD version of _Funny Girl_.

She seemed speechless as she pulled the door open silently, looking down interestedly at the accumulation of things he was holding and then returned her gaze to his face.

"Hey," he stammered stupidly, "I wanted to return your blanket. I washed it."

Juggling the items he tried to shift the weight of the blanket into her arms but he managed to drop everything else and send it sprawling across her entryway hall. His clumsiness allowed him access to her house, however and he grabbed the recording equipment, while she turned the DVD over in her hands.

"Why do you have this?" she asked.

"Because my step-brother told me it was a good movie, especially if you're interested in voices. He says the actress in it has one of the best voices of all time so I thought we could watch it." Finn had devised several different speeches in his head about the film, and giving her that explanation really worked in his favour.

"I didn't know you had a step-brother," replied Rachel, dubiously.

"His dad, Burt just married my Mom. Right before school ended for the summer actually. He doesn't go to our school If we finish our recording session I could tell you about them," Finn was surprised how well his preparedness was fuelling this proposal, "And you could tell me about your family?"

"I guess we could do that."

Finn knew Rachel was uncertain but he was determined to have her recommit to their group project, instead of the essays. He also wanted to know all about 'Broadway Baby' but wouldn't push her for information on that yet. And realistically he couldn't imagine a better way to spend Saturday afternoon than listening to her velvety voice, which caressed him in a similar fashion that her blanket had.

Following Rachel into her home, he quickly switched off his phone, which now had several varying in anger text messages displayed from Quinn, requesting his presence immediately to assist her since he'd apparently promised he would. He'd deal with that problem later though, he thought smiling.

A/ N This seems boring. Sorry about that. Thanks for the reviews - they definitely help me to know whether I'm doing okay. I get that Finn's quite cerebral in this story and thats not canon, but I like him to be a thinker. I knocked this out really quickly; so sorry for the errors.


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